


Situation Totally Normal, 100% Not Fucked Up

by Miri Cleo (miri_cleo)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Admiral Pepper Potts, Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Cunnilingus, F/F, Handwaving, Mutual Non-Con, POV Michelle Jones, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:02:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27921202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miri_cleo/pseuds/Miri%20Cleo
Summary: Mostly what it says on the tin.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Pepper Potts
Comments: 8
Kudos: 8
Collections: Consent Issues Exchange 2020





	Situation Totally Normal, 100% Not Fucked Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [textbookchoices](https://archiveofourown.org/users/textbookchoices/gifts).



_Personal Log Supplemental: Ensign Michelle Jones  
Encode. Authorization Jones Omega Twelve Twelve_

_Despite that actually landing an assignment might have given me an opportunity to at least cause a diplomatic incident by throwing a wrench in another species joining the Federation, I haven't started a revolution. That would probably get me less kicked out of Starfleet than what actually happened, which is classified and involves a moon that is now off limits to Starfleet vessels until it can be further studied by scientists in biohazard suits._

_Let's just saying being fist deep in an admiral is a lot more fucking awesome than it sounds._  
The thing about Admiral Pepper Potts was that she had a reputation for style, and any flag officer with _that_ much style had to be making up for something in substance. MJ didn't really give a flying fuck though because she was sitting at the helm of one of the most advanced shuttle prototypes in the fleet. She didn't know or care how a Vice Admiral had managed to get it. She wouldn't admit that while getting up to speed on the subtle specs she was also studying up on the fact that Potts was one of Starfleet's most decorated negotiators--substance after all--in an infamously open marriage (not in the official file but she had her ways) with one of Starfleet's most notorious fuck ups. 

* * *

"You're reading my file," MJ said casually. It was going to be a sixteen hour flight even at maximum warp, and even though the shuttle was awesome, it was still boringly routine. But when the Admiral cut her icy--really icy, wow--blue eyes in her direction MJ stared forward. "Uh, Sir."

"You were at the top of your class in the Academy, Ensign. And yet this minor but...myriad list of disciplinary infractions has kept you from advancing in rank. And yet you've managed to land this assignment; I'm told you were the most qualified pilot available at the last minute."

"Yeah, Bolian mumps are a bitch."

MJ was trying to work out whether Admiral Potts looked amused or annoyed or amused underneath a veneer of annoyed. And if she worked that part out, she could work out why she _liked_ the way the Admiral looked and what to do with that information. Starfleet's upper command was full of stupidly attractive people, and it was annoying, as annoying as the power structure of the whole thing. Sure peace and equality and blah blah were great. But so was minding your own business and _actually_ not getting involved in shit when other cultures didn't want you to. 

But MJ was pulled out of that well trod thought path by the sound of an alarm from her console. She pulled up the piece of the display that was flashing and frowned more than usual. "We're being enveloped by an unusual ion storm; I need to drop us out of warp." She was already doing it because waiting for orders meant certain death. 

The Admiral accessed her console and knit her brows together, but they were both nearly thrown from their chairs as they dropped back out of warp. "An ion storm shouldn't affect us at warp."

 _No shit._ MJ didn't even have time to be proud of herself for saying it under her breath. "No time to analyze why. This thing is huge, and we have a better chance of not dying if I land us on that moon."

"Can you do it?"

"Without killing us? Yeah."

The landing wasn't great, but they definitely weren't dead. And while the Admiral's hair had come down from her bun, she wasn't bleeding. So, MJ was going to call it a success. Once she got her bearings and decided she probably didn't have much of a concussion, if any at all, and got back into her seat, she checked her controls and silenced the at least five alarms going off. 

"Life support is good, also it looks like the moon's atmosphere is breathable. The distress beacon is operable, but the shuttle's long range communications need a boost to get through that storm."

"It looks like it's holding. Instruments are having a hard time estimating how long it will last--whether that's from damage or interference from the storm itself, it's hard to say. We don't need a ship flying into this."

"Well, we're not flying out once it's gone. The port nacelle is damaged."

The Admiral raised one of her eyebrows. "I thought you said you could land us?"

"I said I could do it without killing us. I didn't say anything about the shuttle...Sir." MJ pursed her lips. "I'll take a look at the damage. It may be something we can repair." 

"I'll see what we can do to boost the distress beacon and get a warning message through with it."

MJ wasn't going to argue. That was going to be her next task after assessing the damage, but if the admiral wanted to do some actual non-admiral work, that was fine with her. She half expected the hatch to open on a breathable but desolate place just given their landing and the storm that precipitated it, but MJ was pleasantly surprised to find a pretty mild landscape. It wasn't like an ion storm was visible to the naked eye from the ground anyway. 

The sky was a pleasant, if slightly twee shade of lavender, and they were in some kind of valley of tall, deep purple grasses and clusters of flowers in deep blue, yellow and white. They both had their tricorders out, and while protocol would have them assess the environment first, MJ was focused on the shuttle. MJ knelt to get a better look at the nacelle's casing and as the Admiral passed behind her, she heard a soft puffing sound before the Admiral coughed. 

"If the pollen is lethal, I suppose we'll know soon."

MJ found herself smirking. She could taste the stuff in her mouth though, so there must have been a lot of it. Don't disturb the flowers was a decent rule to follow, but they weren't frothing at the mouth or melting or anything yet. The nacelle had micro cracks in it, which...wasn't great. MJ sat on the ground and started to take apart a panel to see what else was wrong and what she could do about it. When she looked up, Admiral Potts had pulled off a side panel that hid a recessed ladder and was halfway up the shuttle, pulling off another panel, and MJ had absolutely had a thread of thoughts on what the Admiral was doing except that she lost it because Pepper Potts had a really amazing ass. 

In fact, MJ had noticed her ass when she followed Admiral Potts into the shuttle that morning because it was hard not to. Starlfeet uniforms left little to the imagination, and honestly with her pale skin and strawberry blonde hair, the navy and gold looked pretty boss on Potts--almost as boss as it did with her own, pretty freaking amazing skin. But MJ hadn't noticed that it looked _that_ good. Then the Admiral started rolling up her goddamned sleeves. MJ took out her tricorder. 

"Admiral, your heart rate is rising. We might need to take a break to sample that pollen."

"I don't," Admiral Potts said, glancing down, "expect you to understand what a hot flash feels like Ensign."

"As a fellow woman, I applaud the fact that you've chosen to undergo perimenopause naturally and without the unnecessary intervention of modern medicine, but uh, unless I'm having a hot flash too, I'm fairly sure…" MJ licked her lips, losing her train of thought again. "Your ass looks amazing."

"Ensign Jones, that," she said as she quickly climbed down and MJ got to her feet, "is highly inappropriate. Regulation 1138…" She stopped speaking when they were nose to nose, and her cheeks were incredibly flushed. When she undid her collar and half unzipped her tunic, MJ just wanted to kiss her neck, but the Admiral was kissing her instead. 

And it was… She couldn't even think. Her mind was an explosion of feeling where words were entirely irretrievable because Pepper Potts had the softest lips and the wettest mouth and her teeth and her hands on MJ's face…

"Regulation 1138."

"Fraternization!" MJ was very pleased with herself for finding the word, but her hands had found the Admiral's zipper and gotten her tunic off, and the standard issue tank she was wearing underneath was the sexiest thing MJ had ever seen. "Uh...I mean, none of it. No fraternization."

The Admiral grabbed her hand, and the touch was electric. As she dragged MJ back to the shuttle, more of the flowers puffed their pollen into the air. 

"We've got to get away from these things," Admiral Potts muttered, and once they were inside, she pulled MJ close to her. "Ensign Jones…"

"MJ. Did you know you have freckles?" MJ touched the Admiral's cheek. 

"Yes. That's why they call me Pepper. Ensign Jones, I am your _superior_ officer. And we are clearly under the influence of..." She waved her hand--her long, thin fingers--in the general direction of outside. 

"There is that." MJ swallowed. She wasn't sure how Pepper...the Admiral got that many words out without saying something like 'I want my face in your cunt.' Maybe that's why she was the admiral--MJ highly doubted it because now Pepper was looking at her like she wanted to devour her and MJ definitely was going to let her. 

The best part was that somehow she ended up on the deck of the shuttle with Pepper's face in her cunt. Time seemed to have absolutely no meaning, and every sensation was more than just a recognizable feeling. Just the touch of Pepper's tongue was like an orgasm, every stroke, and then her fingers, curling inside MJ. Pepper's teeth on her breasts were divine; the way she sucked at MJ's thighs was unlike anything MJ had ever felt before. It all seemed out of sequence but she didn't care. She wasn't sure when she came, if she came, if she ever stopped coming or came continuously. 

And reciprocating was just as good. Everything she did to Pepper felt just as good as if MJ were feeling it herself. She was pretty sure she'd never be able to top this experience fisting a woman, and she was also pretty sure she would never try. She'd definitely try to keep fucking admirals because regulations were made to be broken--and as long as she wasn't the superior officer in the situation it wasn't technically her fault anyway. Except MJ was pretty sure this one wasn't her fault. At least, that's what she hoped, as she lay on the deck staring at the ceiling, wondering if the pollen would wear off before or after the storm or if the storm was even still going.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks beta!


End file.
